


Instant Crush

by DeerkStryydurr



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, And Dirk, Dave Needs A Hug, Dave is a Band geek, Dirk is so protective of his little brother, Dirk's life sucks, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Highschool Setting, I'm so sorry dave, Jane was his mom, Jane's dead, Kidnapping, M/M, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadstuck, Sexual Abuse, So Is Karkat, Starvation, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicide Attempt, The Striders are just plain screwed, There might be a happy ending, Torture, everyone needs Jesus, they're all nerds, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8691898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerkStryydurr/pseuds/DeerkStryydurr
Summary: It didn't matter what they wanted to seeYou thought he saw someone that looked just like meI saw my memory that just never diesWe worked too long and hard to give it no timeHe sees right through me, it's so easy with liesCracks in the road that I would try and disguiseHe runs the scissors at the seam in the wallHe cannot break it down or else he would fallOne thousand lonely starsHiding in the coldTake it, oh I don't wanna sing anymore(Julian Casablancas)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, As you will see, I changed the trolls name so they can fit in more with the human stuck theme and I will label their races beside their names.  
> Gamzee- Gavin (Hispanic)  
> Kurloz- Carlos (Hispanic)  
> GHB- Grant (Hispanic)  
> Karkat- Carter (African American/Hispanic)  
> Kankri- Conner (African American/Hispanic)  
> The Sufferer- Simon (African American)  
> Nepeta- Natalie ( African American)  
> Cronus- Jonas (Caucasian)  
> Vriska- Veronica (Hispanic)  
> Terezi- Terri (African American/Asian)
> 
> ((HOMESTUCK DOES NOT BELONG TO ME ))

His lips are chapped and his hat is doing the absolute worst job in keeping his head warm. The coat he wears is for cosmetic appeal only; the sweater underneath is the warmest thing on his body, and that's barely enough. Right now, that was the least of his concerns. He grabbed the things closest to him . His shoes, his jacket, his hat. His phone was always close to him, so he had no problem grabbing that. They at least granted him that freedom, but the device wasn't connected to any service. He just used it to listen to some songs. It helped calm him somewhat. He wanted to grab his aviators, but there was no use. They were far beyond repairing. It was a wonder he held on to them for all that time. He didn't care about them. All he cared about was his freedom and how long he could keep it.

He, just to be clear, is Dave Strider and he is tired. No, tired is an understatement, but to make things brief, tired is what we'll stick with for now. Sleep sounds amazing right now but he just keeps on walking. His feet ache because he's been walking for miles and miles. His feet bled right through his wool socks, but he's had worse. The only thing that's keeping him from giving up and laying on the side of the road is the music playing through his red earbuds. Instant Crush. It is on repeat and has been since the day he began his trek back to where ever home was. That was three days ago, on a Wednesday . It's now Saturday and he doesn't find himself getting any closer to that damned apartment, hell, he isn't even in a town yet.

 

He's using half a brain and decided to change the song to heighten his motivation to keep on moving.

 

His movements were zombie like as his hand dipped into his left pocket. Dave fished for his device, a satisfied grunt leaving the boy when his fingers struck something solid. There was more life poured into him now. The brightness his phone possessed woke him up as well as the time. He hadn't checked the time since he left. Now, he had one hour left until it was Sunday. Then it would be four days that he's been out. Not only did this wake him up further, but it caused a certain something to sink in. He hadn't eaten in those these three in a half days. With a wince, he ignored the loud angry, rumbling of his stomach and turned up Budapest. George Ezra. He was the closet thing to happiness at this point, singing quietly to himself, despite being parched and his voice being raspy.

 

It was funny. A year ago, he wouldn't let himself get caught singing anything from his play list; there were more indie and pop than what most assumed, which was rap. By now, he wasn't even worried. He sang out the lyrics to Budapest the loudest he could manage, only pausing when he groaned in pain, which came from his blistered and bloodied feet.

 

"Give me one reason good why I should never make a change ... Baby if you want me, then all of this will go away.."

His fingers ran through greasy hair and then trailed down rosy cheeks. The wind nipped at his nose and reddened him further. Still, he sang, hands sinking into deep pockets to at least obtain some warmth. It was when the play list changed to a much more slower song that he sighed and lifted his gaze to the towering trees and power lines. There was a nostalgic smile tugging at the ends of his lips. He can't seem to remember who introduced it to him. It doesn't matter now, Dave tells himself . All he needs to worry about is picking up his speed and finding somewhere decent to eat.

 

* * *

 

 

It's important to get into the details. To figure out why he was running in the first place . From whom and from where he was running.

 

It all began on a Friday, that being the day everything took a downward spiral. Some could say it began on the day of the Striders' transferring. When he said "Yo, the name's Dave", and a certain classmate took interest in that nonchalant tone and the way his blonde locks perfectly fell around the boys shoulder. Maybe it was the curiosity in what those eyes looked like underneath. Or maybe it was the that cocky smirk he wore with almost every outfit.

There's no telling really, so it'd be better to start at the beginning of David Strider's last day of being a free Dave Strider.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a look into a normal Strider day. Enjoy.

Dave woke up early everyday, so he was used to his father's ceremonial door kicking each morning. His thick accent nearly suffocated him when he sang out a "good morning" . The next phrase wasn't as jovial when the adult came back to see him still wrapped in his sheets. He muttered something along the lines of "getting his  ass outta the goddamn bed". Hey, just because he was used to it didn't mean he liked it.

"You just had to be a band director at _my_ school. So fucking lame and so fucking early.." He grumbled and rolled out of bed, taking his blanket with him, face buried in the scratchy carpet beneath. What he thought was an empty room, save for himself, was intruded yet again by the same offender. He watched, cleared his throat, and waited for him to get up.

"We don't got all day, lil man. By the time ya get up, the school day's gonna be over with."

 

He'd feel so much better if he had just let him be.

 

"Twenty minutes, David." He was about to leave out until he remembered something. "An' don't try to be slick and _forget_ your instrument. You're not sitting out in class or practice after school."

 

"Yeah yeah , Bro. Get out of my room." There was a scoff and a light chuckle. "Ya forget who pays for it to be "your room", kid." Dave rolled his eyes and made a shooing gesture, in which the man obliged with no further arguments.

 

It was when he finally left him that the teen decided to get decent clothing on.

 

His _decent_ _clothing_ was a simple pair of jeans and a red flannel shirt. At least it wasn't too wrinkled; It _was_ only at the top of his dirty clothes bin after all. With a shrug, he abandoned the pile and went on over to his dresser to dig for a pair of matching socks. The only twin pair were the red and black broken vinyl record socks his dad got him, which he vowed to wear in like, "the twentieth of never in a million years".

 

"Of course.. These atrocities.."

 

He convinces himself that this is for ironic purposes only and pulls them on. There was a knock on his bedroom door that made him curse under his breath.

 

"Dad's in the car. He said ," Here, he mocked his guardians accent " 'He better hurry his ass up or I'm gonna take off.'" He was definitely speeding up this process and sliding into his converses.

 

"Shit! He can't do that! W-Wait! Dirk, Jesus fuck! Wait for me!"

 

By the time Dave pushed open his door, that orange juice loving freak had flew out of the front door.

"Damn it Dirk!" He was darting around the apartment in frantic search of his book bag and clarinet case. No luck. Just smuppets in place of it. So many goddamn smuppets. _Everywhere_. He just kept tripping over these little shits. Let's not even get on the subject on how many weapons and discarded robot parts were just lying around and waiting for him to fall and kill himself on .

 

There was a buzzing in his back pocket that put his actions to a halt.

 

[TT]: See you at school, baby brother.

He shot back a response.

[TG]: fuck u anime shaded asshole. fuck u nd dad

[TT]: Now that language won't get you anywhere, baby brother. And I'll certainly let dad know . 

[TG]: u do that

[TG]: ur an asshole. a gaping one. not even a clean one, nah man, u don't get that honor. a disgusting gaping hole three times the size of texas. scratch that shit, 1 billion times bigger than texas. there aint no motherfucking plug to plug up that hole.

[TT]: I didn't want to imagine that but now I am.

[TT]: Anyways, I need to stop you right there. Your metaphors are similar to the shit that come out of my "gaping asshole". They stink.

[TT]: Hurry up, he's pulling off.

[TG]: yeah, whatever. i'm coming dude.

 

It is now 6:36 and Dave just says "fuck it all" and is satisfied that he's got a pencil in his pocket and his lunch money. He grabs the closest hoodie and his phone before rocketing out of the apartment.

 

In moments like these, one tends to forget the important things . Dave forgot what Bro said about the stairs this morning. That tumble down the flight of stairs definitely helped him remember. He made it all the way down to the lobby, where a small fit of sorts was thrown. He didn't care who saw or heard. There were too many congregating out there to begin with; he knew none of them. Instead of worrying about them, he zoomed past them and out into the street.

 

"He wasn't kidding?!"

Dave shrieked, noticing the absence.

 

Disoriented and sweaty, he took off in the assumed direction of his high school. Low and behold, he spotted that hideously orange Subaru three traffic lights ahead of him. The distasteful paint job almost made him gag but he stopped himself. Instead, he pumped his legs faster , praying that he'd at least make it halfway before the light changed. 

 

It did. Too quickly. However, he was at a distance where they could still see him. He thinks they'd stop, but they do the opposite.

 

Bro steps on it.

"Oh, Come On! You've got to be kidding me!"

The adolescent threw his head back and his hands in the air. "Un-fucking-believable!"

There was nothing to do but zip up those pockets of his and pick up speed. He even took off his shades and put them away, fearing he'd break them in his mad dash. There was something similar to a growl rumbling from deep in his chest. 

His feet almost looked like they weren't even touching the ground. His hair flew back and he decided to draw it back in some type of ponytail later on. It's get all in his face and that's just annoying him further.

 

All of his running paid off. He caught up with the vehicle, practically throwing himself at it's side just to grip the door handle. His breathing was labored and his glare burned through the car door. Dave was determined to hold on to the damned handle even if it meant he to be dragged. He would not be late to Mr. Makara's class. He wouldn't hear the end of it from him or his weird ass kid. Definitely not happening.

 

The dragging did not happen. The car stopped when the light changed to a neon red hue. The sound of the car unlocking met the boy's ears and he eagerly ripped it open. He panted as he spoke, shutting the door with a slam after pulling himself in. Dave lay across the empty back seats.

"I. Hate. You. So much."

Though he was laid out and his gaze was towards the ceiling, he knew his brother's smirk grew tenfold. 

"Maybe of you weren't busy making shitty metaphors you would have made it."

 

Not even able to throw back a clever remark, he huffed and went into his pockets to retrieve his shades. 

 

* * *

 

He made it in his English class  fifteen minutes after the bell, thanks to his dear brother playing hide and seek with his belongings. Not only that, but the line to get passes to class was long and slow moving.

At least he made it, right?

It was always nerve wracking walking into Mr. Makara's class, so he looked for the brighter side of things. The day before, he announced he'd be leaving Monday; he wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. Sighing, his hazel orbs searched for a familiar face. There was no Carter in here today. There was John at least, but he was in the way back. 

Nevertheless, he waved and mouthed a greeting his way.

 

"Mr. Strider, stop socializing and take your seat."

"Gotcha, Mr. Maracas."

 

Giggles filled the room and the boy's face lit up. A little smirk danced it's way across his pale facade. His teacher cleared his throat and inhaled, seeming to control the bubbling annoyance and anger. He pushed up his glasses and for a second, studied the blond boy just a few feet before him. There was a look of hunger in the educators eyes that Dave could not ignore. It made him shiver; his eyes found something else to focus on in order to ease the discomfort.

 The entire class period felt more uncomfortable than it usually had been. There wasn't even anyone to lean over and make jokes with. He would've passed notes to John, but the last time they did that-- well let's say John isn't the best when it comes to sneaking items.

In lieu of passing notes, he actually took notes and participated. Anything to avoid his teacher's predatory gaze. For some reason, this period felt like the longest period out of them all.

 

* * *

 

Lunch 7/8 

Strider figured maybe Carter was just late like he was. He figured he'd be seeing him in the hall ranting or yelling at Terri to stop calling him Karkles or Karkitty. You know, being the average everyday cranky kid he usually was. None of that. None of that happened. He did happen to see Conner-- Carter's older brother, but the junior student seemed so stressed and frazzled that he decided to go against his plan of asking what was up. Besides, he didn't even stay the full school day. Last time he saw him, he was speeding down the halls. The next person he asked was Jonas, but that greaser wannabe brushed him off.

So, here Dave was entering the crowded lunch room, clueless and lonely for the time being. He set his binder and pens down, making sure to save a seat before entering a line. He waited for his cousin. She always came at this time. The usual routine. The safest he's felt all day.

 

He stood on his toes to try to spot his older cousin. She wasn't hard to find, for her dark lips gave her away. 

"Daaaaabe Str-Strudel~!"

Her sing song tone and wild waving let him know that he whatever was in that water bottle was anything but. 

 

"Honestly, how do you get past the security guards with that stuff?" He inquired,linking their arms on their way to the pizza line. She started with a giggle and a light nudge. 

"I'm a nimba-- I mean nanny! Ugh! N-Ninja!"

To that, Dave snorted . "Them guards ain't got nothing against nanny Lalonde." 

"GAH! Shaddup and get in line!"

His laughter rang out and his shoulders shook as a result. He shook his head at his cousin before moving up in line more. He had to keep her steadied once or twice, afraid she'd stumble or lose her place. He never noticed that right in front of him stood Gavin Makara, the object of his irritation but also his fear; the source of his anxiety and part of the reason he hated English as much as he did. Well, with Roxy's loss of footing, David was pushed into the dark haired fellow.

Gavin turned around.

 

Dave's stomach flipped.

 

"Hey lil mother fucker. Watch where you're goin'. Don't want you gettin' all up and hurt."

 

"Uh. Yeah. Sure. I'll put that on my to-do list later on."

He put some space between them and allowed him to breath more freely now. Sweat beaded across his forehead. Just everything about this guy seemed so... So off. The alarm in Dave's head went off and it was loud. He prayed he didn't smell his growing fear, but he was a little surprised he didn't-- it stank up the entire cafeteria. Or maybe that was just the boy's head playing tricks with him. Instead of fretting over it and losing his cool, he whipped out his cell phone and logged in to pester John.

 

[TG]: yo egderp.

[TG]: have u seen the vantasshole around?

[EB]: haha, you have a new nickname for your crabby bf every week it's cute :p

[TG]: funny u say that eggy boy, but we had this huge fite and well u know i kind of dumped him for ur mom 

[EB]: -_- very mature stridouche. anyways, i only saw his brother, but the guy ran out of class. it was weird.

[TG]: yea i saw that earlier. i guess i'll pester him later. see what's up.

[EB]: me too! i didn't think i'd actually miss his never ending rants or watching u 2 argue like an old married couple. lol!

[TG]: pffft. whatever dude, am i at least the guy in this relationship?

[EB]: totally dude. totally.

 

He Put his phone back in his pocket to grab his lunch tray before him. Apple juice was next on his tray followed by a banana just dropped on it. He really just grabbed it to have something fill the awkward space. Once in a while, he'd look over his shoulder to see if Roxy was still with him. She was, luckily, just yapping away with Calliope, whom he had just noticed. He flashed a quick smile and looked forward again, happy to see Gavin was no longer in front of him. Relieved, he dropped his shoulders and sighed. 

"Dave?" The exchange student's sweet accented tone pulled him out of his thoughts. "Are you.. Are you well?"

 

"Huh? Oh yeah! I'm cool. I'm always cool. You sitting with us today?"

"Well of course! Just have to round up Caliborn and Jake to get this party started ~!"

Dave nodded and left the two girls resume to their prior conversation. His eyes scanned the lunch room , trying to remember where his table was. Bing. Terri was his marker. When she spotted him, her hand shot up and waved him over.

"'Sup Terri, Where's your creepy partner in crime?" There was a cackle rising from her vocals. "Gotta be specific there, Strider. Veronica? Or Gavin?" 

"Now why the hell would I be like looking for that scary ass motherfucker. I meant Veronica." Her cackles turned to full on laughter, in which she had to cover her mouth with one hand and gripped the table.

"What?!"

"He's been looking for you, Dave."

"Okay, Terri. Now is not the time to make one of your weird ass 'I know something you don't ' faces. Spill the goddamn can metaphorical beans or God so help me--"

 

"Dave, you're rambling again." That shit eating grin remained.

"I wouldn't be rambling if you'd just fill me in on the details."

"Nah, that wouldn't be fun~!" Dave was just about to open his mouth to retort when the rest of the gang settled in their usual seats. They did what they always did. Ate, teased, minor raps battles between mostly Tyler and Dave. Then there was the banter between Jake and John on what movies are the best and which movies were absolute shit. Dave dove into the conversation to inform them both that their choices were equally terrible. 

 

More bickering. A little roughhouse, but the youngest Strider wouldn't have it any other way. He almost forgot how awkward it felt without Carter, but he quickly got over it. By the end of his lunch period, he shot a string of messages Carter's way and made it up in his mind that he'd just stop by that kids house and figure out why that cranky little shit is hiding out. 

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler is Tavros by the way . :) I'm trying so hard to not suck. :) it's not working. 
> 
> r e a d y t o d i e

Dave spent three gruesome hours tooting his goddamned clarinet because every piece they played just wasn't perfect for Broderick. Just another thing he hated about his guardian sometimes. He was a perfectionist in everything he did. He was just glad that his shaking and "guiding hand" helped the band get to a level he accepted. Somewhat. He said ended the practice with a cold 'we'll fix it tomorrow'. For Dave it was more like 'we'll fix it when we get home'. 

He'd take the break given to him and hustled on over to the vending machine. He was desperate for a big bottle of apple juice. Maybe he'd get a bag of chips or a candy bar. It's six o' five and Dave still hasn't figured out what he want to eat with his AJ.

"Oh what the hell." He muttered under his breath. Slipping in a dollar , he punched the code in for a sharing size bag of M&M's with no intentions of sharing whatsoever. He took a swig of his juice and ignored the quiet footsteps. These footsteps belonged to Gavin Makara and he was quite relieved to see that his prey was unaware.He spoke too soon, or thought rather.  He fully rounded the corner just in the time for Dave to turn around and catch him . He was beyond disappointed, but he wasn't going to let the lone Strider detect any of it. He masked this with one of his stunning grins.

 

There was cockiness in his saunter towards the male , yet Dave's confidence crumbled almost instantly. He watched him draw closer, and bent down to hurry up and grab his red hoodie he abandoned on the floor some time ago. Too slow. Gavin was already squatting to retrieve the article of clothing.

"Heh heh.. Now this is a nice motherfucking jacket, lil buddy. Wouldn't want you getting this all dir-"

Dave cut him off. "Yeah sure. Can I have my jacket back now?" 

He tried to keep his voice leveled and controlled, not really wanting to piss the giant off. It didn't seem like his words affected him in any negative way. In fact, he actually laughed. 

 

This did nothing to relax him, only succeeding in making him more freaked out. Scared. Like almost on the verge of shitting himself. Lucky for him, he was able to hold it in and save himself from the embarrassment. He tried his hardest to not outwardly display his fear  hand shooting up to retrieve his jacket. It was smacked back down, and action that caused every alarm in his mind to sound off and his muscles to freeze. Gavin shook his head disapprovingly and chuckled.

 

"Where are your motherfuckin' manners, brother? Your daddy ain't teach ya any?" Dave huffed and rolled his eyes. "Dude Com-" 

Gavin stopped him with a finger to his lips. "Ask nicely." The upperclassman held up the jacket even higher, making it even more difficult for David. After the third lung, he decided he wasn't going to make a fool of himself any longer. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed up his lenses.

"Look dude, stop fucking around and give me my goddamned jacket. Go be an idiot somewhere else, okay?"

 

The grin dropped. His demeanor darkened. Now he accomplished the thing he had been trying to hard to avoid. Great. However, right at this moment Dave didn't care. Besides, he figured nothing would go farther then a twisted expression and a click of the tongue. He went beyond expectations. Before he could even blink, Gavin had his fists in his hair and his knee connecting with his stomach . 

"I SAID TO ASK NICELY, MOTHERFUCKER."

He suddenly couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe because the same jacket he was instructed to practically beg for was wrapped around his neck. His fight or flight kicked in. He went more for the fight than flight option. What else could he do, trapped in such a position? His hands flew up and Dave clawed and the arm that held his he clothing around his neck. Thirsty gulps of Air and frantic legs kicking out were the only actions taken when he felt the ground below him disappear. He panicked, digging his nails deeper into his attackers flesh.

In doing this, he hoped Gavin would drop him, yet it drove him to tighten his hold. 

This was a fight that Dave Strider was losing. He no longer kicked and clawed at him. He no longer paid attention the ticking of a distant clock or the humming of the vending machine. He was deaf to the click clacking of his glasses dropping. His trembling ceased and darkness embraced him wholeheartedly. 

\----

 

Broderick checked his wrist watch. Twenty minutes too long. He only went out to get a snack a take a piss before they packed up and headed home. He knew he was a picky eater and took long to make choices but never that long . Maybe he should call? Several times he rang already, but all he got was the ringing and then his carry voicemail. That was it.

The guardian wasn't understanding things... Dave was always on his phone, which usually meant he'd always answer his calls. So why was it now, of all times, that he wasn't answering? This wasn't Dave.. 

 

His tongue whipped out to wet his lips and he croaked at Dirk to get his instruments and music together.  They were going to find the youngest of their trio. Once everything was zipped and snapped tightly , Dirk went off on his own to scout the auditorium while Broderick journeyed to the commons. The school itself seemed to be watching the events play out. Quiet and eerily. The only sounds were an occasional beeping or Broderick's footsteps. Whenever he called out for his son, the walls answered back instead, mocking him.

"Dave, I don't know what shit yer tryin' to pull, but do it at home. We're loadin' up now." He was greeted by the childish mimicry of the walls. Still, He called out again, readjusting the straps of his bag as he walked on through the empty space, venturing deeper into the halls. The squeaking of his gym shoes made accompanied his labored breathing and loud swallowing.

 

_C R U N C H._

 

 That certainly caught his attention. He stopped and lifted his left leg, investigated the bottom of his foot and then the floor. A bag of M&M's. He bent to pick up the brown bag of candies, bushy brows raised. Who would just leave this lying around? 

 

"Tch. Kids."

 

Instead of thinking something terrible could've went down, because really who would after only finding M&M's, he shrugged it off as a mess someone left hours before the school day ended. He simply discarded the treat into the nearest trash bin. 

"Where is he off to now?" Were he next few words. He ran slender digits through his thinning hair, clearing his throat loudly. It wouldn't hurt to call him again, he figured. Sighing heavily, he took a break from all this brainless wandering around and leaned against the wall. Soft taps barely made it to Broderick's ears as he dialed the boy's number. He let it ring once. Twice. By the third, he got a little jittery.

 

"Damnit! Where is that kid?!"

It was by the fifth ring that something different occurred. Someone answered. Relieved, he almost smiled before jumping into scolding the one he assumed was his child.

"David Elizabeth Strider, stop playing around and get your ass out to the car. I wanna get out on the road before rush hour hits."

Just breathing. Something close to a chuckle. Maybe it was crying; the man couldn't tell.

"Rush hour is the least of your problems, sir."

The owner of this voice seemed to be close. Too close. He hadn't even realized how close because he didn't hear the cellphone ring. Must have been on silent... In all his wild thinking, he hadn't paid attention to his approaching predator until the last second. He felt his breath on his neck. His hairs stood upright for the short span of five seconds before he decided to turn around. 

 

The blonde  man only made it halfway. The shooting pain in the back of his head stopped him from moving any further. It spread. There was another wet crack that ricocheted off of the walls. Crack after crack crack. Slick and sickening. Enough to make your stomach do somersaults. And Then came the out of place silence, which an understanding thump followed up with a paired  dragging sound. 

 

* * *

 

 

Dirk, get sick and tired of looking for kid brothers. 

He does this quite easily and takes a different route. This was to look for his father, who disappeared as well. No luck. He searched everywhere and came to the   conclusion that they're probably just in the car, waiting for him. With that in mind he went on and took his sweet time.

That is until his bladder reminded him that he hadn't emptied it since lunch.

He took another route that led to the men's bathroom.

What greeted halfway through the commons was red spotting here and there. They were sprinkled, still having a little trail in its own way. The very same trail Dirk followed. The spots grew as he drew closer to the bathroom, turning into a lazy path. Dirk pushed the door open cautiously, looking over his shoulders briefly before entering. He then looked forward and regretted his actions as soon as he did so. Lying before him was one out of the two he was looking for. Broderick, on his back, a bloodied mess and just barely breathing. The most sickening piece of the entire scene was that his eyes were gone.. Well out of his sockets. His eyes were beside his broken frame, used as eyes in the culprit's twisted excuse of a smiley face, in which he used his victim's blood to finish out the nose and mouth.

Dirk's Stomach did somersaults and he gripped the sink to prevent himself from fainting.

"Shit, Shit, Oh my fucking God.." He repeated this over like a prayer, looking around to make sure whoever did this isn't lurking around any longer. He was too much of a wreck to deal with this shit right now. Immediately his phone was pulled out of his back pocket and dialed 911. It was difficult at first. To get a grip and stop hyperventilating. To stop his world from spinning around so wildly. When he finally did punch in the correct three numbers, he found he couldn't speak properly. His voice cracked and he spoke in broken sentences. 

 

"M-My Dad.. He's bleeding...! His eyes are gone.. Hurry up!" They asked him so many questions. They asked to him to calm down, but realized after a few more moments, that was something he couldn't do. What he could do was tell them the address of the school. 

"Sir. S-Sir.. Sir please! Can you at least tell me where you are?"

"0413 Condescension Drive, Beforus Academy. M-Men's bathroom. Hurry up! Now!"

His breathing picked up again, and He listened to the operator and stayed on the phone as instructed. He was told to not touch the body, which he tried so hard not to. He was told to stay in the restroom, which he had to fight with himself to do so. He lowered himself to the floor, locking the door just to be safe. His eyes never left the body, especially when he realized that his father's chest stopped rising and falling. Not from where he sat. He lay still and he looked pale. So pale. He kept quiet, just listening to the drips of water from the faucets. Listening to his own breathing and the loud drumming his heart made. His entire body stilled and he just stared at his parent before him. Part of him waited for someone to jump out and tell him, "It's a prank, bro!" , but judging by the strong stench of iron, this was by far the most grotesque prank he's witnessed. 

He wanted to hurl the more he stared at it, but he just couldn't even move himself to carry such out. 


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a pretty short chapter. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Hhhhhh

_The Next Day_

 

_Dave_

The smell of coffee and cigarettes smacked him in the face when he first woke up. It was a scent he was all too familiar with. Then there was Tejano music. He only recognized the group so well because his father just loved  _Elida y Avante_ . He found it weird at first, but it was something he grew accustomed to over the years. That's why, for a split second, he thought he was back home in his bedroom. He thought this all to be a bad dream. It was what he urged himself to believe until his opened his eyes. This was no where near his room and it most definitely wasn't Broderick blasting his music. 

He moved as freely as he was allowed, which wasn't too free at all. He was able to move on over to his side, which relieved him somewhat. He didn't appreciate having his face smothered into the dirty floor. Already, he was getting something in his eyes, making him tear up and unable to see where he truly was.

After several blinks, some light came into view. It was so bright, and for a moment he looked for his shades until he remembered he couldn't even move his limbs around to grab the eye wear. Disappointed, he took his time to adjust and take note of the black doors in front of him. If he assumed correctly, he appeared to be in van or a truck. On any other occasion, he would have found the white van situation ironic, however, now being the kid in the white van changed his views on things. He then turned his mind from the not so ironic situation and tried to focus on the words he was straining so hard to understand. 

 

His mind was still in a haze after only a few moments of waking up. Everything sounded mushed together and foreign ; It wasn't until he fully got a grip on things that he realized that the words were foreign to him. The most he knew was that they were speaking Spanish, which he only knew because his father spoke it fluently. It most certainly helped with the students who had parents who only spoke Spanish. Dave himself never bothered to learn the language. Instead, he spent middle school and half of his high school career learning Japanese with his brother. He's just now regretting this decision. Scolding himself internally, he controlled and quieted his heavy breathing at the same time.  He listened for any voices, scooting closer to the seats for better quality. They even helped him out by turning down the song down just a bit. 

 

One of the voices he recognized very well. It belonged to his former English teacher, Mr. Makara. 

 

His stomach flipped and and his breathing picked up. He was constantly warning himself to remain quiet and calm-- Dave wasn't so sure if he wanted them to know he was awake just yet. He just laid and listened, his form still and stiff. He listened to his gruff voice and then to the other voices who responded. There were more in the van then the teacher and himself, Dave realized. He listened to their loud laughter and singing along with the radio before trying to sit up. He wiggled on over to the left and then to the right. He tried pushing himself up and sit up properly, but that proved to be difficult and he fell over, making a loud thud. 

 

When the music stopped, he nearly panicked. His heart skipped a beat and his breathing hitched, but it seemed that they weren't coming back on account of him. The talking resumed, but it was getting quieter and farther away. They muted at the slam of a door. Then another and then finally, a third slam. He waited for them to rip open the door and drag him out, eyes screwed shut. 

That never happened. Instead, he found himself alone.

* * *

It's time visit Dirk again.

His home is too empty to stay in. He decided to stay over his aunt Rolanda's house. There, he mostly spent time with the oldest daughter, Roxy, because his aunt was too busy answering a billion calls as well as making them. He didn't mind too much. She was always a busy person and last night's events only piled more things on her load. At least she took time to check on them or eat meals with them. Word from Roxy let him know this was an everyday occurrence. He had only been over there for a little while, but the way those women fussed over him, it's seem like he'd be hanging around for much longer than a few days. 

 

But he couldn't possibly stay for too long. His dad would get better, eyeless but alive, and they'd find his brother. Everything will be just peachy. Back to arguing over which juice is better or that his robots were not lame. Back to the ridiculous banter and strifing. Back to terribly cheesy family photo shoots and long as hell practices. Back to everything that made him feel safe and grounded.

 

This is what he kept telling himself over again in the last twelve hours.

"Everything will be back to normal.. Everything will be okay.." He muttered over and over again, not realizing he was saying it out loud.

 

"Dirk! Dirk! Your turn!" Roxy chirps. He snaps out of his trance with a slow blink and a growing smile. He forgot what he was doing for a few minutes. He almost even forgot where he was. The answer to that question would be that he is currently sprawled out on the living room floor, playing Monopoly with the girls. 

"Are you going, Dirk, or shall I take your turn." This came from Rose, who eyed him with the slightest hint of a smirk. He wore a little grin of his own. 

"Not today, sweetheart. I'm winning this round, chickadee.~"

An eyebrow was raised. Roxy leaned in interest, even pushing her morning "cup of joe" aside. 

"Is Beef Dirky getting all puffed up and cocky?" She teased. 

"Nah. I just wanna hurry up and beat you in this game so it can be over. I'm ready to whip out them playing cards and hand your ass over to you on a silver platter in 21. Multiple times. And all before yer mama rings the bell for breakfast."

At this, both Lalondes fell over and threw themselves into a laughing fit. Roxy snorted and wheezed while Rose wiped her eyes and tried to catch her breath. Even Dirk chuckled a little, still continuing to try and keep up a serious composure. It didn't hold and he ended up laughing more after hearing them mock his accent. 

It was when they were cooling down that Rolanda came down to check on them. 

"I hate to interrupt, but I need to borrow Dirk for a moment.." He was quick to push himself up, almost teetering to the side as he stood. The girls snickered, only to be silenced with just one look from their mother. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN LOVING MEMORY OF BRO STRIDER.
> 
> imnotsorry

Down the halls he followed Ms. Lalonde, unsure on how to break the awkward silence. A couple of times, he cleared his throat, but that was it. The only other sounds were their footsteps and the squeaking of her bedroom door. It was only when they entered that she spoke. 

"Dirk.. Hun. It's about your father.." He paled and the smile he wore failed to uphold. All the time he followed her to the room, her back was to him. Now that she faced him, he saw that her face was red and blotchy. He had a terrible feeling as to why. 

"He... He didn't make it.. He passed earlier-- The doctors said at around four-eighteen A.M .. I wanted to tell you when they called, bu-"

All while she went on and on to explain things, his brain wandered and his hazel orbs were just glued to the floorboards. He heard a ringing in his ears. It was quiet at first, even calming. It was like those sound tracks his father got for his younger brother when he couldn't sleep. The ringing got louder and higher in pitch. The floor disappeared and he saw nothing but black. The darkness around him was warm and comforting. There was a numbness creeping its way into his body but it didn't tingle. No. It felt wonderful. To not feel anything. To not hear her anymore or see her face . To not feel the tears collect and spill out on his cheeks. 

"Dirk! Wake up! Oh sweetie.. It'll be alright. . . Come on, Dirk honey.."

She shook his unconscious body for some odd minutes before holding him close. 

"Roxanne and Rosanne! Help me with Dirk! Oh god.. He's shaking like a leaf.."

The older woman rocked him back and forth, wrapping her arms around tighter, rubbing circles on his back. She stroked his blonde tresses and caressed his cheeks, hoping that'd the shaking would cease. It did to some extent. When the girls sprinted up to see what the problem was, he continued with the tremors.

 

"What happened?!" This came from Roxy. She dropped the goofy expression and replaced it with a more grim look. She took her cousin from her mother's arms, holding him protectively. "What did you do?!" Rolanda took her time to answer her, dabbing at her eyes gently. 

"Your Uncle Broderick didn't make it..."

 

* * *

 

 

Back to Dave.

Dave had been left alone for quite some time and took the given time to try to loosen the bindings around his ankles. It was exhausting, wiggling and kicking wildly. He had to take breaks in between. He never felt so out of shape until now. It was a shame, really. He huffed, coughed and resumed to his work out. Kick. Kick. Wiggle. Kick. Kick. Wiggle.

The usual. 

 

Then something magical happened. He felt the fabric loosen more and slip away. Smiling, he laid back to rest for a moment. Well, he smiled as much as he could with a gag. Next, he had his bounded wrists to deal with.  That wasn't so hard. He was quick with his hands and had marvelous dexterity thanks to years of playing the clarinet. Within five minutes, he finished and tossed the rag elsewhere. Then he paused, listened and looked carefully, making sure any unwanted guests weren't arriving anytime soon. No familiar voices. He carried on and ripped off the gag, closing and opening his mouth just for the hell of it. 

 

He shook and flailed his limbs to wake them up before he, in his own words, "busts out of this joint". Everything seemed easy enough after that.. He took another moment of silence to make sure the coast was clear. Luckily, it was. Dave allowed himself to breathe. It was deep and heavy. It helped him calm down. He did this several times more and then moved closer to the door. In one motion, he tugged, soon learning that tugging it towards himself didn't open the door. He tried the other direction. Much more useful than what he originally planned.

Congratulating himself, he kicked the door a bit wider before scooting his way on out. When his feet met the ground, his heart skipped. His hazel hues met a pair of shoes. He exhaled sharply and released a little laugh upon realizing that they were his own. 

"Damn.. I'm so paranoid.." He muttered to himself. Turning around, he made a lunge for his shades before slamming the door shut. His hands felt himself all over to check if he was lucky and had his phone on him still. He was hoping they hadn't taken it from him.

"Shit. . I need to hurry up.. Where is it." Half tempted to put on his shades, he shoved them in his pocket. He didn't want to be found out so easily. When the pair of shades hit something hard, he sighed in relief. His phone was still in his possession. Zipping up his pockets, he took note of his surroundings. 

It was a parking lot. A parking lot of a restaurant. Nothing special, except for the aroma escaping the building. It made his stomach growl, but he was more focused on getting as far away from the vehicle as possible before they came back out. 

 

Chewing his lower lip, he began to jog towards the exit closest to him. He avoided the restaurant all together. He didn't want to take the chance of them seeing him through the windows or anything. The area to his left was a small neighborhood. Nothing too big but somewhere to hide. He took off in that direction, ripping off his jacket and tossing into a bush. It was going to slow him down and he was sure of it. Besides, it was making him hot.

Because most of these homes had fences, he merely climbed over and slunk in people's backyards. Occasionally he'd check for any dark van similar to the one he had left moments ago, and see if it had been following. 

Much to his relief, it hadn't. Still, he didn't let himself relax too much. He kept running and climbing until he was far enough for a break. He stopped and leaned against the side of a house, making it up in his mind that next time he should take a lot easier and not sprint full speed if there's no one behind him. He carded his fingers through oily locks and took in one deep breath. His hands then dropped so that he could unzip his pant pocket. Quickly, he grabbed his phone. 

 

His excitement went down the drain when he discovered it to be dead. 

 

"Oh, C'mon.." He continued to press the power button, anxiety rising. "This is the absolute  _worst_ time to have a low battery! Fuck!" He pinched the bridge of his nose and remembered where he was. Immediately, he quieted down. Apparently he was already caught in action before he could stop himself. There, in front of him was a large, snarling, German Shepherd. He heard him before he saw him. He didn't think he wanted to see the dog, but he had to look up eventually. 

 

"Shit.. Shit.. Okay, buddy let's just-" 

His legs acted quicker than the rest of him and he moved back. He took it slow at first. Then moved to the side until there was no wall behind him. Each step made the dog move forward, a growl leaving him. Suddenly, the dog snapped at the boy, showing off his sharp teeth and spraying his saliva. "Fuck! Okay Okay!" Tripping over his feet, he turned to run out off of the property . If there was anything David Strider hated more than Smuppets, it would have to be big dogs. So, he ran, looking for the quicker way out, but of course, this house had high fences. 

He looked to his left and then to his right. He needn't look behind him because he knew that dog was on his heels. The barking must've drawn some attention because now a round man was out on his porch and making his way down to the scene. He was yelling something, but Dave didn't understand a word, nor did he really care. Judging by the tone, he didn't have anything nice say. All he wanted to do was figure his way out of this place. There was no way to scale the gate . Looking back, the dog was getting even closer. Close enough to bite a chunk out of his backside. He was going _FIND_ a way to scale this damned thing. 

"Back the fuck off! I'm trying to get out of the shit hole! Jesus Christ!" He went with his final idea, which was a poor one, and threw a shoe at the beast. More yelling. More barking. His other shoe flew. The owner was closer now and his yelling transitioned to a softer tone. Dave didn't know if he was talking to his dog or if he was talking to him. Either way, he was too busy panting and shaking to really pay attention. The only indication that the man was talking to him now was his hand on his shoulder.

 

Everything that said to him went by as nonsense. He was practically speaking gibberish to him.

"Dude.. I-I don't understand.. English. Do you speak it?!" The man kept going. 

"Apparently not.. Ugh.. I just need a phone.." He kept on talking and talking, pulling him in the direction of his porch . More than once , he tripped up the stairs. Then he stopped. Unsure of whether he wanted him to stay outside or go in, he took the safer route and stayed outside. He did this with his nervousness expanding miles and miles down the road ahead of him. A couple of times he called out to see if he could just use a phone and get out of his hair. He hoped the guy would just understand him. He even tried to act out the question or try his hand in some Spanish. The Spanish speaking attempt failed terribly but finally he understood.

 

He went back into the home to get what Dave requested. The longer the man took , the more anxious he grew. His head turned to one side and then to the other. He jumped at every vehicle only to settle down after realizing that they weren't like the van he was looking for at all. When he came out, he sighed deeply. The device was in his hand. Reaching out, he took the device, thanking him over and over again. Dave checked the time first. Nine thirty-six a.m. It felt like much earlier. Shrugging, he was about to punch in a number when something sunk in. He didn't fully remember his Dad's number. 

Yes, he'd call his dad over the police. He just grew up trusting his father more then them all his life. He almost dove in his pocket to pull it up from his contacts until he remembered his phone was dead. Quickly discarding the idea, he punched in Dirk's. 

 

"Two, one, four.. Seven.. One, three, nine, two, eight.. Six..?" He prayed that was the right number. There were three rings before someone answered. It was a woman who picked up and it was a woman he knew well. 

"Hello? Who is this?"

It took him a while to respond. His throats was dry and for a second, he forgot how to say anything other than "fuck!" Or "phone, please". The woman spoke again.

"Now is not the time to play one of your senseless pranks. Goodbye." 

"W-Wait! Please! Aunt Rolanda? It's me , Dave . . Why are you on Dirk's phone?"

"Bigger question, why are you in Mexico?!"

"What? I'm in-- Shit.."

"David, this is Mexico's country code you're calling from, sweetheart. Oh my god, Dave.. How'd you even get there.. I'm going to try to get you. Stay where you are, alright?"

"I- I uhm. I don't think I can..I . I gotta go-"

"David! Hold on-!" He hung up instantly. There was a black van that he recognized and it was too close for comfort. His body tensed up and he was only able to return the phone to its proper owner. Even that was a difficult feat. His hands shook terribly and by the time it was close to his hand, Dave almost dropped it. He gave him an apologetic smile. 

 

"Thanks for letting me use your phone." He muttered something else, but it was inaudible. Awkwardly, he stepped down the stair below him and then to the next one. When he got to the last step, the car parked right in front of the house.

"Fuck. Fuck. Why Am I so fucking slow.." He picked up the speed when feet met solid ground. He moved fast enough to make it to the front gate, but the one he was trying to avoid met him halfway. 


End file.
